Random thoughts and musings from a young Catholic Evangelical. Mostly on religion and global politics and culture, with occasional forays into literature and the existential plight of my self and other selves in the modern world.

Tuesday, 25 September 2007

St George poem Chapter 1- Part 4

"Your peace is worthless, Roman!I know your kind and kin.I know you've men you buy and sellAnd wars you always win;I know of Gaul and German gravesAnd gods who love to sin.

I shun your peace, O Roman,A peace that comes with war.I've heard the tales of refugeesWho've seen the blood and goreYou spill upon the battlefieldFrom peoples you deplore.Such peace this tribe can live without,For though it keep us poor,That is a little price to payTo 'scape the Roman maw."

At this, the elder faltered.His face grew dim and cold.His eyes took on a distant look,Like an ocean growing old.

His voice came out with raspy breath,Unlike what it had been,"Your emperors know nothingOf the things that I have seen."

About Me

I am not my job. I am not my upbringing. I am not the things I know or the skills I have. I am a sinner being saved by grace, a self marooned in the cosmos. There are clear signposts. The path is perilous. Fortunately, I am not the first to come this way.